Duet (Read at the “Muse”)

March 13th, 2007
IIf I were a flamenco dancer,
I’d grab great sweeps of midnight
skirts in my fists, hoist their blood red
ruffles to my hips. Grinding my heels in the lusty
ground, I’d stomp out your hypnotic rhythms, jiggle
my ripe fruits in your face, and hiss, So…

You want this dance?
Bueno, but not before
I’ve given it every
last thing I’ve got.

Because I move to my body’s music–
music spring-fed, music molten, thunder
and lightning music, soft splashing
rain music, dark earth drinking music,
green shoots singing to the sun music,
seeds floating on the wind music,
never-ending-music music.

II

Death, your voice is ebony wood,
clarinet, purple dusk, dry
summer creek when you tell me,
I come not to steal you. I will not
take you against your will.
It is quiet then.It is quiet then.You lean closer, whisper,
The gift is given. As you see
me now turn and see yourself.

It is quiet then.You lean closer, whisper,I offer my hand, and say,
Let the dance continue, knowing
neither you nor I shall lead.

Copyright © 2007 Kathleen Flowers. May not be republished without permission.

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